


Pick and choose

by Attack_on_the_Titan_Shifters



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-24
Updated: 2013-10-23
Packaged: 2017-12-30 07:41:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1015939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Attack_on_the_Titan_Shifters/pseuds/Attack_on_the_Titan_Shifters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John finds out he has a daughter he didn't know about. However she looks a lot like Sherlock. John and Sherlock get to raise this daughter together, with a few things along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pick and choose

Chapter I

“Sherlock.” John Watson mumbled under his breath at the sight of at least ten new post-it notes on his door. It was the third month since Sherlock had returned to the land of the living and John had been giving him the silent treatment since then. So Sherlock resorted to communicating through post-its. 

“Need more milk.” “Lestrade wants to have dinner with us, how do I tell him that we aren’t talking?” “Don’t open the freezer for at least eight hours.” These were just some of the messages John got daily. Each color stood for something. Red was urgent, green was something that needed to be done, yellow was people, and blue was when Sherlock was feeling lonely. Whenever John got a blue one, he could hear Sherlock throwing the tennis ball that John had thrown at him off the wall repeatedly for several hours.

John grabbed his coat and wallet and walked out of his room and towards the front door. Sherlock was sitting there reading Jane Eyre.

“Oh come on Jane, he’s obviously- where are you going?” He said looking up. John sighed, finally giving up his silence.

“Going to get some milk.” He said holding up the sticky note. 

“That won’t work, we won’t have any place to store it. We can’t open the freezer for seven more hours, it will spoil.” He said throwing the book aside and grabbing his coat.

“What are you doing?” John asked as Sherlock opened the door for him. He smiled.

“John, don’t you read? I said Lestrade wants to have dinner.” He walked out the door and quickly and eagerly walked down the steps, John walking slowly and cautiously behind him. Sherlock abruptly stopped, John ran into him. John was about to protest when Sherlock shushed him by putting his finger on John’s lips.

“Someone’s at the door.” He mouthed. His hand went to his side, as if by nature, and realized there was nothing there. He sighed and moved his hand to the knob. He quickly opened it and grabbed the person outside by the neck and quickly pulled them inside. 

“Sherlock! SHERLOCK! LET GO!” John yelled as Sherlock cut off the breathing of a young girl. Sherlock slowly released and regained his composure, although he looked a little on edge. The young girl fell to the ground in quick breaths while she was having a coughing fit. John kneeled next to the girl.

“Easy, easy, try nice calming deep breaths. That’s it, no rush.” He said calmly rubbing her back. When the coughing had ceased she slowly stood up and gave a cautious look to Sherlock.

“Who are you?” Sherlock said curtly. He stared at her as if she were a thief he had just caught in the act. The girl didn't answer.

“Who are you?” Sherlock practically yelled, he grabbed the girl by the shoulders and shook her a bit. John broke off the grip of Sherlock and slammed him into the wall.

“Sherlock! Calm down, I’m sure she’ll answer you if she isn't being threatened by you!” The girl nodded. “So, what’s your name?”

“Colette.” The girl answered in a French accent. 

“Where are you from?” Sherlock asked. She stared at her feet, as if contemplating her next answer.

“My mother and me live in Paris, my mother is dead. She told me to look for my father.” She said in her best attempt at English. She obviously knew the language but it was not your first.

Sherlock, quite out of the blue, asked Colette a question in French. The girl answered, but John had no idea what was being said.

“Let me guess, you want the help of Sherlock Holmes to find your daddy?” Sherlock said in a mean tone. The girl stared coldly at him.

“No. My father lives here.” She said, her English sounded stronger. John and Sherlock stared at each other. The little girl had dark hair and dark eyes. Her skin was pale and she had light brown eyes. She looked like she was about nine or ten. The question of who was the father was not a hard one.

“I’m not your father.” Sherlock said. The girl laughed a sickly sweet laugh, the kind of laugh that makes her sound sweet, but makes you doubt your intentions.

“You are not my father Mr. Holmes. My father’s name is John Watson.” She said.

“What?” John asked, doubting he heard her right. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“John, you had a daughter with a French woman and now she’s here to live with us with only the clothes on her back. Now, let’s go.” He said grabbing the hand of John and the thin arm of Colette.

Sherlock hailed a cab and ushered the father and daughter inside. Colette sat in the middle of the two looking around with wonder. During the ride she crawled on the lap of Sherlock to look out the window. He stared at her, then at John, and then back at her. Colette did the same to John.

“This is a very pretty city. I also like this car, I’ve never been in one you know.” She said. Occasionally she would slip into very fast French, she would look to Sherlock for answers. He would answer them quietly, occasionally getting deeper into conversation.

“We’re here.” Sherlock said. The cab was outside of Scotland Yard. 

“I thought we were going out to dinner?” John said, tipping the cabbie. 

“Technically Lestrade is still working, and technically I requested dinner, and technically he said no.” Sherlock said walking in. Colette slipped her hand into John’s and looked nervously at a passing police car with it’s lights and sirens going off. John patted her hand comfortably. 

Sherlock held the door for them and Colette slipped her hand into Sherlock’s. The three of them walked through the building to Lestrade’s office. They got some looks from the people but they obviously didn’t care. 

“You know John, we’ve only known this girl for about forty-five minutes and we are already holding hands.” Sherlock said quietly in his ears. John had wanted kids for a few years now, so it wasn’t a wonder to him why he warmed up to Colette so fast. He was wondering however why Sherlock was this friendly with her. He didn’t have time to ponder because Lestrade was staring at them from his office. Donovan was there too looking at them just as strangely. 

“What are you doing here freak? Was being dead too boring?” Donovan said glaring maliciously. Sherlock went rigid, Colette tried to get her hand out of Sherlock’s tight grasp.

“What are you guys doing here anyways?” Lestrade asked, getting up.

“Apparently we’re here for dinner.” John said. 

“Who’s she?” Donovan said gesturing to Colette. Colette tapped Sherlock’s shoulder, he leaned down and she whispered something in French. There was the faintest sign of a smile, but it disappeared. 

“This is John’s daughter, Colette. She’s new. I think John really likes her, so she’s probably staying at our house. We are going to need to get a blood test, but their eyes are identical and the way the both lean on their left leg more then the right in the same way, so it’s really pointless.” He said.

The rest of “dinner” went with Donovan sent to receive chicken from a Thai place across town. To which Sherlock claimed that he “Didn’t feel like Thai food.” so instead they got the delicious and ever so nutritious dinner of vending machine chips and chocolate, which was eaten by Colette, whose favorite food happened to be chocolate. 

After dinner, the three of them went home. Colette fell asleep in the cab and John carried her into the flat. She was put into John’s bed and he went to sleep on the couch. Sherlock went up to John and whispered into his ear huskily, his breath smelled of wine.

“You know John, you don’t have to sleep on the couch.” He said. This was not the first time John had slept in Sherlock’s bed. The night of Sherlock’s return, they had slept in the same bed, and did a bit more… But that was one time, although John liked it and wanted to do it again.

“Uh, I, uh-” John stammered. Sherlock shushed him with his finger for the second time that day. Sherlock took John’s hand and led him into his room.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first story so I hope you like it! Please leave criticism so I can improve the story or complements, that's nice too.


End file.
